Thirteen Days

Thirteen days in an NFL with no leadership, no agency, and no point, except to pile on more money at all costs.

Thirteen days. It took thirteen days for 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh to switch his stance on domestic violence. It took him thirteen days—and one alleged domestic violence incident involving one of his players, defensive lineman Ray McDonald—to give these two separate statements, without irony.

September 2, 2014: "I'll speak for the 49ers: We will not tolerate domestic violence. If someone physically abuses a woman and/or physically or mentally abuses or hurts a child," Harbaugh said, "then there's no understanding."

September 15, 2014: "We're not going to flinch based on public speculation."

This is the definition of shit talk—of tough talk with no substance or intention of backing up actionable words with genuine action. This is about a man more fearful for his job and how is defense will react with a hole in his D-line than for the welfare of living people.

And Roger Goodell is to blame, again, for enabling a culture that stands for this.

This would be an abstraction if not for the other American sports league that dealt with a crisis months ago and handled it with a dignity that strengthened the sport, the players, and the coaches within it.

When faced with scandal, L.A. Clippers coach Doc Rivers immediately and vocally denounced the man writing his checks. He continually threatened to step down. He encouraged his players to speak freely and truthfully about the ubiquity of racism in the NBA. He supported protest. If his commissioner didn't act to make sure Donald Sterling would never own an NBA team again, Rivers was to join his team in protesting or forfeiting every game until he was forced to step down. This was during a playoff series, no less.

Doc Rivers did not wait to kick up at incompetent and soulless management. He acted with leadership. He didn't get punished for it. He got promoted. He's now the President of Basketball Operations at the Clippers.

It's because there was leadership and agency all the way down—from the commissioner to the coaches and players. It's because the NBA stressed morality. It's because the NBA said that running an American institution is about more than making money. It's because the NBA meant it when the league's commissioner said it.

When the NFL harps on the soul and purpose of the league from now on—when they start donning slightly pink uniforms next month in support of breast cancer research—know this: The only reason the NFL is supporting breast cancer research is because they know it will sell more tickets.

It is empty charity. The NFL would like female NFL fans to know they'd rather have them alive than dead, only because it's possible they might buy more stuff. If this takes aligning with women's social justice interests by making a bunch of pink towels, they will do just that.

The NFL is about football and making money, and nothing else.

That is the message Jim Harbaugh is sending when he doesn't at least send away his player with pay until his domestic violence case is sorted out by the law. That is the message Vikings owners Zygi and Mark Wilf, general manager Rick Spielman, and head coach Mark Zimmer sent when they invited back All-Pro running back Adrian Peterson despite an indictment last week on graphic and unequivocal child abuse charges—solely because the team is bad without him.

The only thing that matters is football. If it takes beating your wife or beating your child to become the best running back or defensive lineman in the NFL, then so be it. Teams will welcome you back with open arms, not even pending investigation. This is, of course, unless you've murdered somewhere between two and five people and didn't even bother to cover it up, like Aaron Hernandez, then we'll all have a hard time thinking you'll get out of prison by the time you'll be a useful player again.

There is no protocol. The commissioner will do nothing.

The NFL's Personal Conduct Policy is now this: "Do whatever you want. We are making so much money despite ourselves."

It is almost like these teams need a commissioner to give them some guidance on how to dole out punishments in situations like this. It's almost like they could use one who can exemplify how to lead an organization—wherein a leader might have to sacrifice a win in the short-term for the integrity of a long-term idea.

But of course not. Ray McDonald will play on Sunday. The 49ers will probably win.

The NFL is, as of this second, keeping Roger Goodell as its commissioner, and keeping Ray McDonald on the field, and keeping Adrian Peterson on the field—not because they've been cleared of committing unjustifiable indiscretions, but because they weren't the first ones to be accused of one this month. The NFL will probably win. They'll still likely get its $25 billion by 2027, even if everyone is disgusted with themselves by the need of it, even if we simply haven't found a way to wash our hands of it.

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